Made Your Mark on Me
by swancharmings
Summary: "You might not be the bad guy, but that doesn't mean that..." a continuation, if Gretchen never interrupted them. (episode tag to 9x02)


**Note: **_A few thank yous this time: 1) Heather, for boosting morale and the beta of the century; 2) Elle (mieh) for her very perceptive idea of just what Harvey was going to say before Gretchen cut him off. Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy this piece._

"You might not be the bad guy, but that doesn't mean I still don't get to punish you."

Before she fully registers what he's saying, Harvey moves to shut the door, turning to face her with a look that makes her knees weak.

"Harvey," she warns, but her voice comes out breathless and high and not at all commanding.

He saunters towards her with a smirk.

Donna steadies herself and gives him a pointed look. "It's 9 o'clock."

"It's not office hours."

"Harvey."

"Donna," he parries back, arms circling her waist and pulling her towards him.

She bites her lip and glances over his shoulder. "We'll get caught."

"Not if you're quiet." He gives her a smug grin that says he _knows _she won't be quiet. Her stomach flutters with the knowledge that he _does _know, from very personal experience.

Harvey knows the exact moment he has her, because he straightens and points to his desk without a word.

Donna's eyes darken and her breath catches in her throat.

"We're doing this." A statement, not a question, because she's moving behind the desk as she speaks.

"We are."

Harvey's voice is low and gravelly and sends shockwaves through her abdomen.

But what he says next has her trembling.

"Bend over."

Donna doesn't have time to dwell on how fast she acquiesces to this request.

There were many late nights - more than she'd like to admit - where this exact scenario ran through her mind.

She feels his hard length press against her center, and suddenly she doesn't care if the entire fucking city walks through those doors.

He drags the zipper of her dress tantalizingly slow down her back, kissing every inch of skin he bares. Once it hits the end he hikes the material up her thighs until it's pooled above her waist. His warm hand cups her over her panties and Donna bites her lip to keep from moaning.

He trails his fingers over the expanse of her back, through her hair, down over her ass before he shoves her underwear aside to slide them in her wet heat.

Donna gasps, teeth clamping down on her knuckles as Harvey curls his fingers inside her, stroking her walls the way he knows she likes.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, pulling out of her to rub at her clit. "For me." She can't see but she can hear him suck the digits into his mouth and she wants to cry.

"Harvey —"

"No," he says firmly, pulling his hand away and letting it rest on the swell of her ass. "No talking."

A wave of heat courses through her, every nerve electric. She briefly looks out into the empty hallway, just a precaution, but it's short lived as the head of his cock brushes along her slit. It's _him _and only him.

But before he moves to where she wants him, _needs _him most, he leans down to kiss her temple. "Okay?" he breathes the question in her ear, in that soft voice he has reserved for her and only her, and her body melts for a different reason now. She trusts him implicitly but he still has to ask, to be absolutely sure, and if how wet she is isn't enough to convince him, she reaches back and squeezes his hand, nodding, nuzzling against his cheek.

He kisses her again and leans back, pumping himself once, twice before burying into her.

It's sudden and abrupt and Donna's mouth forms a perfect O as he fills her completely.

There's nothing gentle about it and she absolutely loves it. Loves him. Loves that he can make her feel this way.

He palms her breast roughly over her dress with one hand, the other steady on her waist as he pounds into her, the wet sounds they're making driving her crazy and making her head swim.

The angle she's draped over the desk is causing her clit to hit the edge _just right _with every thrust and the pleasure ripples through her.

Harvey trades his frenzied pace for long, deep strokes that fill her and stretch her and consume her, and she bites her fist harder to keep from making noise. She can feel every inch of him and she's _so close. _

His hand leaves her hip and slides back down to her ass, caressing the creamy globes as he continues to thrust inside her.

"Harvey...please..." she grits out, panting.

His palm rubs her backside once more before he lifts it up and slaps, the harsh sound echoing through the room.

Donna cries out and comes so suddenly she surprises even herself.

Harvey smoothes over the red mark he left while she floats down, gently soothing the sting.

She comes back to herself as he carefully turns her around, and it's then that she realizes he's still fully hard.

"Harvey—" she starts, but he's sitting down in his chair, pulling her to him and she obliges instantly. She straddles his waist as her arms loop around his neck, fingers scratching through his hair as her own envelopes him in a canopy of red.

He reaches up to claim her lips in a soft kiss. She traces her tongue along his bottom lip, the inside of his teeth, the roof of his mouth. Devouring him.

Donna starts to move then, slowly, languidly, twisting her hips as she descends in a way that she knows drives him mad.

He lifts his head to look in her eyes, and what she sees there takes her breath away. She has a feeling it always will.

She wanted it hard and he gave it to her. Now he wants it soft and sensual and she will give that to him.

She kisses his forehead, his brow, his nose. Nuzzles his cheek and grazes the shell of his ear as she continues to bounce above him, contracting her walls around his cock and feeling his breath hitch and his heartbeat stutter under her palms.

Harvey is surrounded by every inch of Donna Paulsen and he's still not close enough, can never be close enough. He burrows in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, and stalls her hips with his hands. She meets his gaze, confused.

"Just want to stay here for a bit," he rasps, sucking where her neck meets her shoulder. Donna nods. She understands. She feels it too. The sense of completion, bonded together in every way, both physically and mentally.

They stay this way for a long minute until he bucks against her, hands trailing up to play with her breasts, and she kisses him fully as she begins the torturous build once more.

They move in a frenzy now, all lips and teeth and tongue and hands, hands everywhere, and Donna sees the concentration on Harvey's face and she knows.

"Let go for me, Harvey," she whispers.

That's all he needs, hips moving wildly beneath her as he comes apart in her arms, and she traces every part of him she can reach until his pulses cease.

Afterwards she's giggling, shoulders shaking as she falls against him, and he follows suit, laughing with her. Being with her, in every sense of the word.

Then they're quiet, holding each other in the dark.

"I concede. Maybe this was a better ritual under the circumstances," Harvey notes after a moment.

She snorts. "You got that right."

He sobers, strokes up and down her spine.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks quietly.

Donna pulls back to look at him, shakes her head. "No. Harvey, no. You could never hurt me."

"You didn't come again."

"Believe me, I came hard enough the first time," she reminds him, kissing the worry off his face.

He's stroking her hips, eyes fixed on where they're still joined. She takes his hands in her own, laces their fingers together. Brings them up between their bodies, between their chests, between their hearts.

"That was perfect." She places a kiss on his knuckles as she says it, gaze never wavering.

"You're perfect," he responds, a dopey grin forming on his face.

"I know," she says and he barks out a laugh.

"But," her voice lowers, "I don't think my punishment was good enough."

"No?"

"No."

Harvey hums. "Well, in that case, I suggest we go home and fix that right now."

Donna tilts her head at him. "You're going to have to let go of me first."

"I was hoping that wouldn't be an issue."

She snickers, climbing off his lap as he all but whines in protest.

"And —" she turns to him again, points a finger in his face. "You're ironing my dress tomorrow."

Harvey smiles as he helps tug her zipper back up. "It is my favorite," he muses, "But it definitely looks better all rumpled on you like that."

"Idiot," she mutters, rolling her eyes with a teasing gleam.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Harvey grabs her and draws her tight to him, laughing against her lips.

She steps out of his embrace, walking backwards towards the door. "You heard what I said." A sultry smile spreads across her face. "What are you going to do about it?"

Donna throws him one last knowing look before she makes her way to the elevators.

She'll give him about twenty seconds to catch up to her.


End file.
